The Harmattan

I promise I will write a post about the super awesome events that have taken place over the last month. Two amazing friends came to visit me. One even decided that he wanted to marry me, so he proposed while on a beach in Akwidaa, Ghana and we will be getting married this fall!  But those stories will all come later when the internet is fast enough to upload pictures.  Today I wanted to post an entry from my journal.


The sands of the Harmattan blew in at the end of last term.

The Saharan traveler swirled in one morning, leaving the horizon where my steadfast mountain stands with nothing more than a dingy gray existence.  Like a rapidly progressing depression, the sand both blocks the sun and creates a pseudo yellow tinge as if it is attempting to convince the land that its dry swirls of sand may actually be clouds full of water.

The earth cools down.  Kids wear winter jackets as the temperature drops to 76 degrees. I wrap myself in 3 sheets at night.  The cooler temperatures seem like a breath of fresh air - until you actually inhale the dryness that surrounds you. The Harmattan sands seem to separate me from the realness of Ghana.  I miss seeing more than gray on the horizon, and I long to breathe clean air. 

But the Harmattan-despite traveling quite the distance- is a part of Ghana.  The dusty sands are a part of the authenticity of this place.  It's not unlike sin.  Sin, when first sweeping in to the Garden of Eden, must have changed everything.  It must have tainted the taste of fruit and dulled the landscape.  Its
very being clouded the vision of all of us, leaving only gray horizons where luscious mountains once loomed.

Then we woke up into the dust-covered world.  We feel the impact-our lips are chapped from the dryness, our skin is dull, our throats parched.  We realize that somewhere the grass must be greener: We know there must be more than this.

Jesus saved us, but the Harmattan hasn't lifted yet.   There is more in store for us.  I am anxious about leaving.  I struggle that I may never see some of my students again. I struggle that I have not taught them everything that they need to succeed to be strong, to love people and to love God. My heart is constantly bursting between all of the people I am constantly leaving and I wonder if it will only be settled well the Harmattan has forever gone away.

"O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you.  My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water.  I have seen you in your sanctuary and gazed upon your power and glory.  Your unfailing love is better than life itself; how I praise you!  I will praise you for as long as I live, lifting up my hands to you in prayer.  You satisfy me more than the richest feast.  I will praise you with songs of joy."